


Just To Breathe In

by sasha_b



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane, meant for this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just To Breathe In

His head drops, face burning, twisting lips, the muscles in his right quad thrumming in sudden pain as the crying from Carol gets louder and more desperate. The sun’s baking the back of his head but all he can see is the ground, brown and dank and rotten under his boots. He feels swollen all of a sudden, too big to fit in his skin, too warm, burning – the gun falls to the ground, his fingers slick and sweaty. His arms bunch and he grips his hands into fists as the sweat continues to slide as it always does down his back into the wet waistband of his pants.

Rick doesn’t turn, doesn’t move save to lower his weapon hand, and Shane wonders what in the _fuck_ anyone can say now.

 

_I hear he woke up._

_He’s in and out but yeah, he’s going to be alright._

_Good. That’s good. Did you mean it?_

_What?_

_When you said, “stay.” Did you mean it? Cause if you didn’t you just say so. Do it now. I need to know._

_I meant it._

_…alright then._

Lori enters the RV and Shane walks away from her, moving fast and stiff and all physicality and sinew and he walks faster until he’s out of sight of the camp and in the woods. He knows there’s a chance Rick or one of the others is out here, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck and he’s alone and he squats by a tree stump, dark pants made darker with sweat and grime.

He scrubs a hand over his bald-ish head (fucking hair, fucking beautiful hair, goddamn it) and the part of the scalp that Otis had scratched burns when he touches it. The gun at his back is a weight that he can’t bear and he jerks it free from his waist band, wanting to throw the thing, but he knows better. Rick would laugh his ass off if he could see Shane now, thinking and philosophizing or whatever. Get rid of his gun?

No matter what Rick says, no matter what Rick _thinks_ , Shane’s no dummy. He won’t give up the only thing that’s keeping him from being walker bait or weak or ashamed or afraid. Or alone or without a purpose in this shit forsaken world.

There’s power in the gun, power in the thing that now sits by his foot, shining and always clean and he should have fucking been able to see that redneck asshole that had snuck away from the car and had aimed at Rick and taken him down and put him in the coma and now Shane’s got _this_ to deal with. All of this and he can’t do it, can’t fathom how he can love and hate someone at the same time, especially someone he’s known since 6th grade and his hand shakes and _did she really mean it?_

He loves Lori too, and that makes his head want to explode. No matter the pain she’s caused him, no matter the difference she’s brought to his life and his life with Rick. He rubs his cheek; the light scar there that she’d given him in the CDC building - _Shane NO_ \- he swallows and blinks his eyes, wondering where he’d gone that night in his head that made him want to try –

He laughs, because he _had_ tried to hurt her. No matter how he likes to remember it. He swallows over more burning bile again and shoves it down, down deep inside, where everything about this life and Carl and Lori and Rick is shoved together. He aches like a fucking broken toy, running in the same place, wind up key gone somewhere no one can find.

He’d tried to hurt her, and he’s never really thought on why.

_Yeah, not like me at all._

Creaking trees waft a few light breezes over his head, the omnipresent humidity heavy enough to weigh him down so close to almost lying on the ground.

He gulps and shakes and allows a few burning tears to tickle the back of his throat (Carl, Carl’s gonna be okay, that thing that was left of Rick when Shane left him behind) and stands quickly when he hears his name called, wipes his face and smiles a cocky shit eating grin for Rick when the other man finds him in the open, alone.

“What are you doing, man?”

“Some alone time. You know, Jesus, Rick.”

He laughs and shoves the gun back in his waistband, rubs hands over his stubbly hair, and laughs again. Rick smiles, but Shane can see it doesn’t travel to the other man’s blue eyes. His face is very white and Shane swallows and allows the smug smirk to slide off his tan, square face. He licks split lips – fucking no lip balm, he misses that shit a lot – and sighs.

“Why you out here, following me? You look like hell.” He reaches out and plucks a stray hay piece from Rick’s shoulder, hand lingering, fingers dropping finally. Rick shifts and bites his lip. “Come on,” he replies after a heart stopping, empty moment. “Carl’s asking for you, brother.”

Shane smiles again, the crack in his lips opening and he can taste the blood but he doesn’t care. He slings an arm around Rick’s shoulders and follows the other man (a shade of his former self; it makes Shane want to punch something) to the camp and then to the house.

_Stay. I meant it._

She’s gonna take it back, but currently he doesn’t give a fuck.

_How you gonna make it safe, Rick? No, it’s not okay!_

_Shane! Lori’s pregnant. We need to stay._

_…we need our guns._

_No we don’t. I can work this out._

_…_

_You good?_

_Yeah. Lori’s having a baby, man. Congratulations._

_…thank you._

“She wants a family.”

Shane cocks a dark eyebrow as they sit in the car, eating Dairy Queen and jawjacking while they wait for calls to come in. They’re newly minted deputies, with their first car, and the sun is shining and there’s two girls in tank tops sitting in the back of their truck, drinking cokes and surreptitiously watching them, and it’s the beginning of summer and Shane’s got a gun he’s licensed to carry and Rick’s his partner and goddamn, but things were just starting to get _good_.

And then Rick opened his mouth and said

“She wants a family, Shane.”

He eats more of his Hung’r Buster and thinks. Running a hand through his thick hair (girls do love it; he’s pretty proud of it) he takes another bite, but finds he’s not hungry any more. Maybe it’s been busted. He laughs and wipes his mouth with a paper napkin and finally looks over at Rick, who appears as though he might vomit at any second. Shane takes the fries out of the other man’s slightly trembling hand and eats a few.

“M’man, why did you get hooked up in the first place if you didn’t want a kid? Or several,” he adds, joking, but he quickly touches Rick’s forehead and feels his face when Rick blanches even whiter. “Shit, Rick, I was making a joke,” he says quickly. “You gonna be sick?”

“No, I ...l… no,” Rick says. He swallows roughly and turns in his seat to stare Shane dead on. After a minute Shane has to look away; Rick’s eyes are too intense and too blue. “She’s pregnant already, anyway.”

Shane feels a twist in his gut that always accompanies serious thoughts of Rick and/or Lori. He rolls red lips inward and shoots a snort out of his nose, knowing he should feel good for his friend, his best friend, the only man he’d ever admittedly lov-

“Congratulations,” he says finally. He eats another French fry, almost choking on the dry food, takes a large slug of coke. “When?”

“December,” Rick answers.

Shane nods like he’s a sage man with sage advice. “Congratulations,” he murmurs again, thoughts whirling suddenly like a hurricane with no end – 

Lori took Rick from Shane when they got married, and now, a kid? And Lori, gone from him too, buried in Rick’s life now, her and Rick’s lives, and a kid.

A kid.

Goddamn it, but he really will be alone, now. Once, there was a chance for him to remain the third in the partnership that had drifted from ShaneRick and then sorta RickShaneLori to RickLori, but now, no way. He swallows the last of his burger, the meat bitter and old tasting.

Rick sucks in a heavy breath, opens his mouth to say something, and the radio crackles to life. He turns the key and the engine in the Police Interceptor roars smoothly and they roll out of the Dairy Queen parking lot, Shane dumping the trash from their food in a can as they blow the joint.

_Shane, enough!_

_Yeah, you’re right, man, that is enough._

He stands there, watching the other man run to Carl, _Dad! Dad!_ tackling him, taking him to the ground, Lori quickly following the boy, and Shane can’t suppress the shiver of terror that takes his spine – he never thought to see Rick again – he moves back a bit, mouth open, hand loose on the rifle he holds. He never…Rick was in a coma, in the hospital that was overrun with those things. Granted, Shane had blocked the door to his room, had tried to carry him out, had _tried._ He’d damn well tried his best – and here Rick was, showing up unexpectedly –

Shane looks down and looks up again, sketchy smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Rick looks up from the clutch he has on his family, and meets Shane’s eyes.

Whatever passes between them Shane can’t put a name to it. He nods briefly, the weird smile taking control of his mouth and stretching it, and Rick nods to him, eyes ablaze, blue scorching the grass and everything that lies between the two of them.

Shane turns and walks away from the small group, the tiny rekindled family, _not his family_ , cradling his shotgun, taking his watch position as that’s what he’s the best at.

_I see you pushing everyone away. For what? They need you._

_I’ll always be the odd man out. Same as you._

_I’ve made my peace._

_The way I see it, you and me, we’re treated the same way. They’re always trying to take the gun outta your hand. These folks – they wanna play house, pretend that Rick and Hershel, they know what they’re doin’. Lemme tell you something, they’re bound to get us all killed._

_Then we have to stop that._

_They don’t listen…they’re just gonna bring on a war, or something worse, or something we just gotta sit here and wait for. But you and me? We’re the only ones who see it coming…I should have left with you when I had the chance._

He can feel the heat of Andrea’s gaze on the back of his neck as he strides away, always with purpose, the power of conviction and righteous fortitude his strength and solace. Rick – fucking Rick! Playing house with a buncha folk that will bring death and retribution down – he stumbles over a stray rock and curses, spitting to the side, sweat beading at his temples, gun a large weight at his back, his hand reaching out to catch him as he almost-falls.

The cairn they’d built for Otis is still there, still high, and still just a fucking joke. Pretty trees surround it, and Shane steadies himself, hand shaking on the piled stones, the rattling setting his teeth to aching. Dappled sunlight, slight breezes, and he kicks suddenly at the pile, bringing it down in a matter of minutes, dust and motes of detritus floating in the air around him, anger and indignation and 

His name is spoken and he whirls, drawing his gun, pointing it at Rick’s face, mouth set in the thin frown it’s grown to love. He doesn’t lower it right away, not until Rick says _Shane_ again with such force he wonders if they could hear him up at the house.

“What.”

“You set up watch?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you do this?”

“Because it’s safer that way?”

He slips his gun back into his waistband and rests hands on his hips, his dark shirt opening at the neck, the necklace glinting in the sun. He knows that’s not what Rick meant.

“Let’s set it back.” The other man bends and begins the process of resetting the stones at Otis’ marker. Shane watches him, eyes narrowed, mind whirling, brain throbbing with the thoughts that threaten to break free and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard he can taste the copper and it’s like going home for more than one second.

He remembers high school, and he remembers Rick then, and he sees Rick _now_ and he wonders, albeit briefly, how much longer he can manage the madness that inhabits the whole world. Even if he’s made for it.

And he thinks LoriRickShane

And he thinks RickShane

And he thinks RickLoriCarl.

And he thinks Shane.

And he bends over and helps Rick pile the rocks, one by one, hands steady, gun strong at his back, silent.

**Author's Note:**

> All lines from The Walking Dead (TV) are copyright their respective writers.


End file.
